Echoes
by Lulubird
Summary: As Haymitch watches the 74th Hunger Games, the fate of two Careers reminds him of a time long ago and a girl he couldn't save. Cato&Clove through the eyes of Haymitch. Also Haymitch/Maysilee


**A/N: Based of Clato scenes from the movie and book, Haymitch scenes from the book, and the Quater Quell Haymitch/Maysilee video on youtube by Mainstaypro. **

**If you like it or not please review. -Lu  
**

* * *

The boy from District 1 was dead. Haymitch finished the drink in front of him, half celebration, half mourning. So that just left the two from District 2. He had been watching them closely, and not just because they were the greatest threat to Katniss. Something about the way the two were together sparked a memory in his brain. It had begun when he had watched the tall blonde boy, Cato, fighting two other tributes. Somehow the boy had found himself without his sword, though he was still winning. He downed one attacker with ease but then the other had caught him on the shoulder with an axe, only lightly but enough. Haymitch had been watching with mild interest when suddenly the axe-wielding tribute dropped like a stone. A little murmur of surprise had echoed around the bar where he was sitting in and, with Cato, the room had looked towards the petite, dark figure of Clove, two more knives waiting to join the one she had felled the tribute with.

"Cato. I told you. We live longer together," she scolded and that was when Haymitch had been transported back to the Arena.

"_We'd live longer with two of us," she said, watching him apprehensively. He could barely see her through the blood that poured down his face, he was hardly a threat. He just nodded._ That was when his alliance with Maysilee had begun.

It sent a shiver down his spine as, over the next few days, he watched Cato and Clove in the Arena. He couldn't believe he was even contemplating a parallel between himself and these two vicious Careers, but little things kept dragging him back to his memories. The way they worked together to collect water, the way Cato put his jacket over a shivering Clove while she slept, the way it was just the two of them against everyone else. He almost paid them as much attention as his own tributes. He didn't mean to, he didn't want to, but it was as if the universe was taunting him, echoing his darkest and happiest memories in these two Careers.

* * *

Her screams pained him and another's voice began to echo in his head. He couldn't look at the screen to watch Clove die. He stared into the murky brown liquid of his drink and tried to block them both out; Clove and Maysilee.

He wondered how Cato and Clove had gotten separated. Had it been an accident or did they 'break' the alliance. Had Cato been too busy pursuing his own goal to be there? 'Like you' said a nasty little voice in his head. 'You were too busy satisfying your pathetic curiosity. Perhaps you could have saved her'. He swallowed the harsh liquor, attempting to block out the tormenting little voice in his head. He hated it because it was right.

Had Cato made the same mistake? He hoped more than normal that the boy would die. If he lived the could expect only a future of guilt and misery. He was a Career, yes, but Haymitch had been watching them enough to know that he wouldn't be okay with her death.

He heard a small cheer as the people at the bar spotted their favourite and he knew Cato had arrived. He risked a glance back at the screen and was surprised to see she was still alive- just. Something in his chest hurt as he watched Cato crash to a stop beside her and the pleas and apologies that poured from him turned that pain into screaming agony.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have left," he heard Clove choke out and Haymitch might as well have been back in his own Arena because he was listening to _her_ say those very words. He knew almost with instinct what Cato was going to say, because he, himself, had said those things. He murmured the words under his breath as Cato voicedthem, Haymitch's eyes fixed to the two kids on the screen.

He desperately wanted the camera to cut, to find another gory delight for the audience. The Game Makers had only been interested in these two for what chaos they caused. They had not received an iota of sympathetic screen time; that had all been reserved for Katniss and Peeta, Haymitch thought. Cato and Clove were murdering teenagers but they deserved this one moment alone, not sharing their pain and suffering with the entire country. The Capitol couldn't even give them that, he thought bitterly, finishing another drink. He shouted (slurred) at the bar tender and a fresh one was place quickly in front of him.

"Oh that's awful!" exclaimed a woman sitting next to him, too loudly. He winced from her shrill voice but his eyes slid towards her in mild surprise. He wouldn't have expected any of these people to truly be moved by the sight in front of them. "They are out of Number 1 Vodka!" she shrilled at him and he dropped his head. Of course, he should know by now that there was nothing inside these made-up, vain creatures. "Ugh and there's my money down the drain," moaned another man and Haymitch saw him pointing at the screen. His eyes followed the man's finger to where Cato was still holding Clove. In complete incomprehension Haymitch wondered how could their brains be so different, were he and the man different species? What chemical was different that that man saw the scene in front of him and saw only his money disappearing, like a race horse that had failed to finish, and Haymitch saw an echo of the most painful moment of his life, his heart twisting agonizingly even at the thought of it. The camera zoomed in gorily on the two tributes hands, clasped and bloody. He had held _her_ hand as she died too. He could practically still feel her fingers in his, the blood from her throat making her skin slick and slippery. He could still remember the way she had let go.

An involuntary moan escaped his lips and his head found the surface of the bar. He would do anything. Anything...

The sound of a canon firing, rippling across the bar over the chatter of the Capitol, made him lift his head again and stare blearily at the screen. Cato faded from the screen and he was glad, he didn't want to see the boy snap. Because Haymitch had a feeling he knew exactly what was going on in Cato's head. He could probably give him the exact sequence of emotions; disbelief, pain, terror, more pain, white hot burning fury, revenge, exhaustion, pain, a dull, throbbing guilt that never went away, eventually numbness would seep in but the pain would always be there.

"My my," tittered Caesar, flashing up onto the screen where the two tributes had been. His face was pulled down in mock concern. "Well, another tribute down. A training score of 10 and killed by a rock, hey?" he continued. Haymitch dropped his head to the bar again as the host's cruel, twisted laughter began to bounce around the room. Had they mocked and laughed when Maysilee had died? Several of the people watching echoed Caesar's laughter and in that moment Haymitch wanted to smash them all to pieces.


End file.
